As the pupils got back into the swing of school after Christmas, the weeks began to fall away. Before anyone knew it, it was May, and only a few weeks remained of the spring term. Unlike most of his friends, however, Harry was not at all excited for the holiday. There were two reasons for this: the first and most obvious being the Dursleys, whom he would have to live with again; and the second was the fact that he still hadn't stopped Snape from stealing... whatever it was he was trying to steal: the thing guarded by the three-headed dog on the third floor. Their last hope was to trust that Hagrid was well informed, and attempt to prevent Snape from stealing the stone that very night. Snape would travel past the three-headed dog and past the trap door, and they would be there to stop him. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything Harry could do about the Dursleys.

Draco, of course, knew nothing of the trapdoor or the three-headed dog, but this didn't make the summer holidays any happier a prospect for him. He knew that all the summer holidays would bring would be the anger of his father, the quiet hopelessness of his mother, and homework assignments. The mere thought of haveing to be near his father constantly made him feel ill and, though he loved his mother, she tended to stay quietly in her room. The thought of going back to his 'home' made him feel claustrophobic, despite its spacious rooms and high ceilings.

0o0oHarry0o0o

Harry's hands shook as he took the potion Hermione gave him. "You're sure this is the right one?"

"Positive," replied Hermione, "And my one will bring me back through the other door. I'll make sure Ron is ok, you take care of Snape." Hermione paused. "I- I'm so sorry I can't help you with this. There's only enough potion for one person."

"Don't worry about it Hermione, it isn't your fault. Just go and make sure Ron's okay."

Hermione hugged Harry, holding on for longer than usual before pulling away and wiping a tear from her eye. "Good luck, Harry." Then she was gone, engulfed – though not burned – by the flames leading back to the room with the knocked out mountain troll, through which Ron lay surrounded by gigantic chessmen, blood running from his forehead and into his hair. Harry watched her go, then took a deep breath, downed the oily, rotten-tasting potion, and strode through the flames.

What he saw surprised him. It was not Snape, but Professor Quirrel, who stood in the centre of the room. He was standing in front of a mirror – no, not a mirror - the Mirror of Erised. As Harry entered the room, he turned.

"Ah, Harry. We were wondering when you would join us."

0o0oDraco0o0o

Draco ran through the school, not caring that people saw him, not stopping until he came to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey looked alarmed and annoyed as he skidded noisily into the room, his pulse pounding through his ears.

"Is Harry Potter here? Is he okay? There's people saying he's dead, is he? Surely he isn't dead? He can't b-"

"Malfoy, please, calm down!" Madame Pomfrey looked vaguely worried. She was probably considering giving him an anxiety potion. "Potter is very much alive. He was hurt badly and is currently sleeping, but he will live. Now please, calm yourself. You look quite unwell."

Malfoy felt the knot in his chest loosen slightly, and the fear that Harry had died began to release its hold. "Can I see him?" He asked, still breathless. Madame Pomfrey looked as if she were about to refuse, but then something in her expression softened.

"You may see him for a few minutes only, provided you keep quiet. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger are being treated, too. They are in potion-induced sleep while they heal." She then led Draco over to one of three beds hidden behind clinical curtains, told him to please be quiet, and left.

Draco stared at Harry, who was sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed. He hadn't realised how much he cared about the boy until he had heard the Slytherins discussing his rumoured death in the common room. On hearing this, Draco had stood up, excused himself, calmly walked out of the door, and then ran full pelt across the school to reach the hospital ward, only realising that this was unusual halfway through it. Timidly, Draco reached out a hand and touched Harry's shoulder.

"You know, Potter, it's your own stupid fault for going up against You-Know-Bloody-Who. You're an idiot, Potter. You scared me half to death." He said, shakily, with a vague attempt at his well-practised sneer. He paused, then, in a quieter voice, added, "Get well soon, Harry. I'll miss you in potions."

Before Draco knew it, he was being bustled out of the hospital wing by Madam Pomfrey.

At least he's alive.

End Of Part One